You’ve come too soon, like an inexperienced man with no stamina during his first sexual encounter. Or maybe it was I who has come too late, possibly never cumming at all? Did you come tonight? I’ve yet to have sex with anyone besides you in the year 2005, which is a disappointment. Nevertheless, when I am sexually active, there is usually a feeling of emotional and/or physical satisfaction- post ejaculation- which is the evolutionary byproduct of survival; however, right now I am feeling nothing that resembles the sort of neural satisfaction I tend to enjoy post coitus because I know with the birth of a new year, coincidentally there is also a funeral for the death of the year which has just passed. We celebrate new beginnings with hope and promise for a better year filled with new endeavors, friendships, hopes, dreams and love; yet concurrently we mourn the loss of friends who have moved away, loved-ones who have died, lost jobs, depreciating bank accounts and fucked up events that preceded tonight’s celebrated (holy-day) holiday. On this eve there is an abundance of reflexive thoughts echoing through the minds of every American. It’s not just me this time! Cliché questions like, “what have I become?” “Where are we going?” “What’s the purpose in all this?” stroke the inquisitive minds of even semi-conscious beings. We think in terms of progression and digression when we dog-ear chapters in time. Henceforth, we make New Year’s resolutions that answer the mind’s plagued ponderings. “What can I do better this year, which hitherto tonight, for some reason or another, I couldn’t do last year?” “Who or what can I appreciate more this time around?” “Does any of this even matter?” Yes and no. New years are a time for reflection, a time to anticipate the future and to let go of the past. You are the past; you are my past– a most emotional time, a roaring rapid of lust and passion, of anger and aggression, blah blah blah. The new year is a time to wrestle with the brain and to figure what the fuck to do with ourselves for the next holy year, in the year of our lord, Jesus Christ the savior. Amen. New Year’s eve is an interesting holiday. It has astrological origins as well as religious ones’. It’s an agreed upon number by cultures throughout the world. I’d almost go as far to say it’s a humanistic universal standard (if there could be such a thing). It is the one day we celebrate as the defining point to start another trip around the sun. But how can one keep looking foreword when one is so fixated on the past? The new year is upon us: new beginnings and final endings; a time to reflect on what’s happened to us in the past 365 days and what to look towards for the next 365. Last year’s New Year’s eve was a tumultuous night for us, as I recall. We were at an anarchist punk show in the Mission where there were no rules, no laws, 40 Oz’s and gutter-punks. The smell emitting from the venue wasn’t from the stains on the floor, but from the stains on the clothes of the dirty mother bastards we called friends. Well, they were more your friends than mine, however I never had anything against them. They were some of the most passionate people I’d met in a long time. I could especially feel their enthusiasm in the moshpit. That night, I got clocked in the face with an elbow. My front tooth was pushed back a bit, but I didn’t mind. It was fun. Yet, That was then and this is now. I spent this New Year’s eve with my good friend Alexia who was in town for a few days this holiday. I even got a kiss from her when the clocks turned midnight. How sweet of her to bless me with her lips. We made our rounds around town by stopping at a few house parties. Nothing extreme happened, which I consider a good thing. Sometimes, no news is good news.

99 Letters is the documented process of the visceral and emotional experience I had during my divorce. Writing these letters was an attempt to articulate my thoughts artistically and creatively. Read these memoirs as you would read a fictitious book. Syndicate entries using RSS and Comments (RSS).